


True Genius

by iimplicitt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anti-Hero, Bisexual Male Character, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Choking, Detectives, Eventual Sex, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Knifeplay, LGBTQ Character, Love, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Murder, Murder Mystery, Possessive Tom Riddle, Serial Killers, Slow Burn, Suggestive Themes, Tom Riddle is Not Voldemort, Twisted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:54:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23680387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iimplicitt/pseuds/iimplicitt
Summary: ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ is a charming, well educated, intelligent high ranking detective for the Metropolitan police department in London, his rapport impressive with his high number of solved cases. His nights are cloaked in darkness, hiding his wickedness from the world and shielding his sins. His coworkers couldn’t fathom how he gains such insight on the bloody trail of murders that have been haunting the city for the past two years. His character is always well thought out, his mind ten steps ahead with practiced steps.Then one day he stumbles when he meets her, a skylark earning her degree in forensic psychology and she’s got curious little fascination with serial killers that just might help the Met put this horror show to an end.
Relationships: Abraxas Malfoy/Original Male Character(s), Original Male Character(s)/Original Female Character(s), Tom Riddle/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. epigraph

**~•~**

"All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed. I still, though, hold on to one single bleak truth: no one is safe, nothing is redeemed. Yet I am blameless. Each model of human behavior must be assumed to have some validity. Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do? My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone."

Bret Easton Ellis, _American Psycho_

**~•~**


	2. prologue

**act i •’ entrance**

𝖆𝖇𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖍𝖔𝖕𝖊, 𝖞𝖊 𝖜𝖍𝖔 𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

**~•~**

**Burnt** coffee scathed his tongue, but Tom continued to sip it leisurely as his eyes drifted between the window and the file he had brought.

 _Fenrir Greyback,_ written in bloodied ink, was scrawled onto the top. Tapping his pen, the man's disgustingly distorted face grew grimmer by the second as Tom continued to observe the mug shot.

_Any time now._

The man's motif wasn't unique, but it was horrid. He had an inkling for children and tearing them apart.

_Any time now._

Tom's lip curled as he read this for the fifth time, either that or it was from another drink of the watered down dirt. He looked around, spotting a young girl laughing at something her friend said. She'd ordered an iced drink, it was most likely cranberry, but Tom concentrated on the thin, watery blood allusion of it with ice and thin slices of lemon.

His eyes drift to the knife currently being used to cut bread, it's jagged edges tearing through the skin.

A ringing noise met his ears, his phone buzzing in his pocket. Letting it drag on for as long as he dared, he finally slippied it out and didn't bother reading who it was.

"What is it, Malfoy?"

There was a bated breath on the other side.

" _Malfoy_."

"Right, sorry. The report came back from the lab. It's the same mark. It's him."

Taking a sip, Tom let the silence drag out uncomfortably and Abraxas cleared his throat. It always amused him, making the blond man squirm.

"It's been three months."

"Yes, I know."

"... so he's going to kill again, soon?"

"Obviously."

Taking another sip, Abraxas was silent and Tom rolled his eyes, "is that all you called to tell me?"

"Yes, but —"

Hanging up, his phone clattered half heartedly on the dull wood of the table he was sat at. Honestly, the amount of his time the Met wasted was embarrassing. Abraxas knew better when to call him, Tom gave the man strict instructions to only do so if it was vitally important. So it didn't take much effort to work out Dumbledore made him ring.

The old fool might be Detective Inspector, but Tom still had his number muted.

Reckless? Yes. He didn't much care.

Sliding the file into his case, he stood and fixed his jacket before walking out the door. Sending a cheeky wink to the woman working behind the counter as he did so.

He'd gotten her to give him a free, shitty coffee after all.

Tom's shiny leather shoes clicked along the pavement as he fell in step about four meters back, keeping a measured distance. His hazelnut eyes always burnt to embers when he was on the hunt, his head ticking to an angle like a bird of prey.

_Any time now._

Graying, black hair was being ruffled by the wind, Tom could practically smell the man all the way from where he was.

It was vile.

_Any time now._

Broad shoulders, reasonably built, but had clearly lost some weight since being out of prison. Tom narrowed his eyes in detestment as he watched him swagger, his head turning at the sight of a pretty red headed girl who couldn't be older than twelve.

_Any time now._

Tom was closer.

The sun was setting, smog settling itself over London to hide the sins for the night.

_Any time now._

Streets grew narrower, the cobblestones uneven and grimy underneath his finely made shoes. But now they were silent, no click, because he willed it so.

When on the hunt, the wraith nestled deep in his chest swelled and possessed him.

The moon turned her cheek to the actions about to unfold.

_Any time now._

Darkness pulsed, a hand rested on his shoulder, the blade slipped from his cuff and into the gut before sliding up through the crimson butter that was once flesh and hard muscle.

He tried to fight back but was already spluttering pathetic nonsense.

If the knife was pulled, ruddy red entrails would spill like fine silk.

Ticking his tongue, a devilish grin inhibited his face as the man's eyes widened.

 _Now_.

He retracted, the thing fell with a heavy thump, head splitting loudly on the stone but the smog muffled the noise.

Bending down, the tip of the blade nipped and cut and he marveled at his creation of crimson, letting the flare of euphoria sink into his skin and his eyes closed.

The moon showed her face and her pale touch caressed his cheeks.

The wraith's appetite was settled, it had been coddled - his shoes clicked again.

While making dinner, nothing special, it was ready made ramen, Tom's phone buzzed on the table top.

He didn't answer it, merely stirred the noodles.

Buzzing again rang in his ears like an incessant fly.

He didn't answer it, he strained the water.

 _Buzz_.

"For fucks sake — _what_?" He bit into the speaker, he could feel Abraxas flinch through the device.

"Another body's been found."

Pouring the sauce into the bowl, he walked over and nipped a pair of chopsticks from a drawer, "who?"

"It's Greyback, he's dead."

"Who's on forensics?"

He heard Abraxas pull away from the phone, there was a commotion of voices swimming dimly in the background and Tom took a generous bite of his mediocre supper.

"Leo is."

"I don't like Rosier, get someone else," Tom muttered with his mouth full, putting the phone on speaker and propping himself up on the counter, his feet dangling mere inches from the floor.

Abraxas scoffed a dry laugh, "I can't just get someone else because they annoy you, Riddle."

"Really? Usually it works."

"It only works because you're you."

"I think that's a sign you need to build up your reputation, Malfoy."

"Shut up... why aren't you here by the way? Aren't you still on the clock?"

Tom took another bite, taking his precious time to chew before answering, "that's adorable, do you need me? I thought everyone despised my company."

"Oh yes, they adore you when you belittle them. But I reluctantly admit you're the cleverest in the bunch."

"I'm touched."

"No you're not."

Tom laughed lightly, shaking his head and he stifled a yawn, "I'll head to the hospital first thing in the morning. Have the file dropped off."

"Okay, but —"

"Who's due to work tomorrow at the lab?"

There's a beat of silence and Tom's chest twisted in annoyance and he grimaced, "not Lestrange. Isn't he under review?" He might've — did — let slip to Vidar's boss that he had been involved in some rather scandalous activity involving drugs lately.

Which he hadn't been, scandalous yes, but not drugs.

Tom simply couldn't stand the man.

"He was pardoned."

Muttering a swear, Tom hopped off the counter and dropped the bowl into the sink with a clang.

"Send me what you have so far on Greyback," his voice slipped into one of a deeper baritone and he hung up, his mind back in the game and his feet padded quietly to his office.

Slumping in his chair, the leather tugged against the bare skin of his back and he rolled his shoulders and grabbed a cigarette from his silver wrought case. Wetting it on his lips, he flicked the light and it bathed his vision in orange and he'd brought out the file from his case. 

Unsheathing his beloved bloodied red pen, Tom marked a jagged _X_ over the putrid mugshot.

Only then did he notice the crimson speckled on his ring.


	3. rigor mortis

**CHAPTER I**

**~•~**   
  


**Heavy** wool was snug across his shoulders as he stifled a yawn and he locked the door to his flat.

Just as he pocketed the key, he picked up his case and turned when —

"Mornin!"

His neighbor chirped happily, red hair as wild as his freckles. Tom smiled tightly, "good morning, Mr. Weasley."

He rolled his eyes, "how many times do I have to tell you? Call me Septimus."

Sighing lightly through his nose, Tom nodded and began to make his way down the hall, "of course, my apologies."

"It's no worry. Oh! Would you like to join my wife and I for dinner Friday night? I know you always refuse but I promise, she makes a lovely risotto."

"I'll let you know my schedule."

He definitely wasn't going, nor would he ever.

As soon as he stepped out into the busy morning streets of London, he lit a cigarette and his shoes clicked, matching the seldom beat of his heart.

Faces passed, all interchangeable, just blurs of color and bone and flesh and blood and nothing.

They were all nothing.

Women and men would smile at him, some would wink. He'd smile back and as soon as they were passed he'd damn them to Hell.

Nearing the Royal Hospital, he threw the cigarette on the ground and snuffed it out with the toe of his shoe before reaching for the door.

"Riddle!"

Turning, Astrid was walking towards him, holding a tray of four coffees and beaming at him, much too chipper for such an hour. He nearly groaned in annoyance, she made it her life's mission to try and get under his skin just for her amusement.

She was a detective in his department as well. Her dark brown hair wound back tightly in a ponytail and it swung with each step of her heels. Honestly, why she chose to wear those everyday. Weren't they painful? Was it some sort of penance?

"I do hope you're going to hold the door for me," she teased and he refrained from rolling his eyes as he did in fact, hold the door open for her.

Following in after, Tom flashed his badge to the guard and they made their way to the lift, stepping inside and pressing the bottom button which led to the lab.

"What are you doing here?" He finally asked. If anything, he would be expecting Abraxas considering him and the blond were partners for cases. Thankfully the hit hadn't called him again.

Astrid sent him a wink, "don't look too pleased to see me. Trust me, I'm like walking heroin, after one taste you wouldn't be able to get enough." She smirked at the flicker of distaste in his dark eyes.

Again, she _loved_ annoying him.

"I'm meeting a friend," she finally admitted, "she's interning here from Cambridge."

"She's down in the lab, I'm assuming?"

"Yep, forensic psychology."

Biting his cheek he turned his gaze to the slowly decreasing number of the floors, he didn't want some giddy and inept university student to pester him every time he had to come to the lab. Which was quite often.

Astrid took in his shifted demeanor and laughed, "don't worry, she's not much of a talker."

"That seems contradictory for her choice in degree."

Before she could argue the lift doors slid open and Tom gestured for her to go first. Astrid gave him a dramatic curtsy whilst still balancing the tray of coffee, "what a gentleman."

Once her back was turned, he finally indulged himself and rolled his eyes, following behind her as they made their way down the hall.

Walking through the two heavy metal doors, Leo Rosier was standing at one of the counters with a boy who had a mess of curly light brown hair upon his head, both muttering quietly as they were reviewing the investigation report the Met had sent.

Tom eyes shifted over the vast lab, the lights dim but a pale hue came from the walls, letting x-ray's and other scans glow.

In the far off corner a girl was sat, not paying them any mind and she had earphones blasting music.

Astrid sang a good morning and Leo muttered one back, not looking at her and Tom's colleague deflated slightly but shook her head as she walked over to the girl. Clearly the friend she was talking about.

"Leo, aren't you going to introduce Tom to the new blood?"

Not glancing away from the files, he gestured a hand to the boy, "Adonis Nott, this is Tom Riddle. A detective at the Met."

The student smiled politely, though it was clipped and shook the hand Tom had held out, "forensic psychology."

"And this is the charming Reyna Sato," Astrid said in a lulling voice, but the girl was so caught up in what she was writing and her music — which was much too loud, Tom could hear The Beatles even from where he was standing — to notice their presence.

Rolling her eyes, Astrid nudged her and she flinched. Her eyes narrowed to a glare but softened when her friend handed her the coffee and she tugged out one earbud.

"Forensic psychology," Astrid finished.

"Neuropsychology, if we're being specific," Reyna muttered, taking a sip and her nose scrunched, "it's cold."

"It was a long walk. Anyway, Leo, Riddle and I came to observe Greyback's body."

Astrid walked over to him and they fell into conversation over the cases information, her dropping in flirtatious marks now and then but Leo remained ignorant.

It was pathetic.

Tom ran a hand through his soft curls, the chestnut brown looking black in the lighting and he made over to Reyna, smoothly gliding between the tables like a snake.

He took in the unkept mess of her hair as it was tied up in a knot of gold. It was very unprofessional, but he supposed if she was kept down in the lab all day it didn't much matter. To add to it, underneath her coat she wore a blue hoodie so dark it could've been black and Cambridge was printed in small test across her chest.

Unprofessional, indeed.

Horn-rimmed glasses were perched on her nose as her attention flitted between the brain scans on her screen and a mess of papers spread out on her desk.

Reyna had a rainbow of post-it notes stuck everywhere, some with unintelligible notes and others were simply little drawings. They were quite good, if he were being honest.

Not that he'd ever tell her, unless he needed a favor one day. Flattery could only get him so far, especially if it was to a young and aspiring student.

Looking her over, he knew she probably had a liking for praise.

A young little thing like her, in such an ambitious field. Tucked away in a lab with two men, and from which he observed, they didn't pay her any mind.

Coming to stand next to her, he clasped his hands behind his back and watched her work, not missing the way she shifted in her seat.

After a moment she cleared her throat, but didn't look at him as she spoke, "could you not?"

"Pardon?"

"Hover. You're hovering. I don't like it."

He blinked at her bluntness but then bowed his head, "apologies. Are these Greyback's brain scans?"

Reyna nodded, then shook her head and waved her hand at the scan on the right. Tom followed the light blue puff at the end of the pen she held in distaste.

"This one is a scan of a pedophile from a recent study and he had increased activity in the left anterior insular cortex when he viewed pictures of young animals. Gross right? Like, I mean puppies are cute and all but damn."

Tom raised a brow at her but she still had yet to look at him. Waving her pen to the scan on the left, she lightly tapped the screen and sighed.

"But," she brought out another file and flipped it open to a page that had her writing scribbled all over.

From what he could figure out, it appeared she couldn't help herself.

"There's two different criteria of pedophiles. Non offenders, and child sexual offenders. Greyback was the latter. Before he was released he had an fMRI and as you can see here I did a regression analysis on the right temporal lobe which revealed lower gray matter volume in the prefrontal cortex. Which is associated with a higher-risk of re-offending in pedophilic child molesters. That's not even including his method of killing. And sometimes I think _I'm_ fucked up," she laughed.

Then abruptly stopped, realizing she was rambling and he could simply read this all himself in the file she had put together. Plus, Reyna was sure he didn't care for her little commentary.

Finally she looked up at him, her eyes wide and strikingly blue, she pushed up her glasses but they slid down her nose again stubbornly.

"Did you get any of that? I talk too fast sometimes."

"All the time," Adonis called from his own desk and she waved him off with a muttered _shut_ _up_.

Before Tom could reassure her, Reyna shook her head and handed him a file, "never mind, everything is in here." She handed it to him without looking and it hit his chest, his hands quickly grasping onto it so the papers didn't fly everywhere.

Astrid pulled away from Leo and turned to Tom, "morgue time, buddy."

Curling his lip at the friendly endearment, he turned to Reyna, "thank you, Miss Sato"

Shrugging one shoulder, she pushed up her lenses again. "Yeah no problem. Next time if I'm rambling tell me to shut up."

Next time.

"Don't lie, I tell you to shut up all the time yet you keep yapping with that goddamn mouth of yours." Adonis said as he walked by, sipping his own cold coffee Astrid brought and Reyna rolled her eyes.

He was always an ass.

Tom grazed through the file, it was typed but she had notes all over it, her handwriting a mixture between cursive and print and some of it meddled together into a mess of scrawl. It looked like when she wrote, her mind moved too quickly, her hand not being able to keep up.

His writing looked like that when it got bad.

Tom shook his head, now wasn't the time to ponder.

"I appreciate it," he drawled and made his voice a lilt, smiling charmingly and nearly smirked at her sudden blush. There was the reaction he was waiting for. Fascinating how it took her so damn long.

Once they were in the morgue, the chilled air bit into his skin and his gaze was impassive as he looked down at the rigid thing laying on the metal slab table. It's skin a film of gray-blue, tight and dried and dead.

"As you can clearly see, there's the mark," Leo said with a point of his finger, continuing to list off what else he'd found.

Tom tuned him out, a skill of his, and began to read over Reyna's file, deciphering her shitty yet also elegant handwriting. Some weren't even notes of academic use, just her reaction to what she'd found.

 _Damn_ , was written quite frequently.

His lips tilted at what she had underlined three times at one section.

_Sick bastard. I'm glad you're dead asshole._

But as he reviewed it, he had to give the girl some mild credit; she wasn't stupid.

One could easily buy their way into Cambridge, if they had the right resources or name. But they couldn't successfully pay their way through Reyna's field. No, she had to have earned her spot.

Astrid nudged him, bringing him from his thoughts and he looked down at her impassively.

"See? She wasn't that bad."

"You said she doesn't talk."

"She doesn't."

"Liar."

Rolling her eyes as Leo rolled the table away, they turned to walk out and this time held the door for him, which he reluctantly walked through. 

"She's only like that if she's talking about something she likes, if she finds the conversation boring she's practically mute. Or if you're me, she loves to gossip. I'm special like that." Astrid then chuckled, "if you think that was something you should ask her about serial killers. _God_ , the girl will talk circles around you."

He raised a brow, something in his chest doing an odd little swirl that made him either feel sick or excited. It confused him. He didn't like being confused.

They passed by the lab and Tom looked through the window at Reyna. Her headphones were back in and she was mumbling along to a song as she scribbled something else down hectically, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.

"Is that so?" He hummed, watching how her wet tongue then dashed out and slid across the bloody redness of them.

"Especially with the serial killer we have on our hands now, she has a shit ton of theories. Sometimes I'm concerned she's going to go in too deep and fall into the path of one."

Looking at Astrid, Tom smiled, dimples teasing their way into his cheeks.

"That would certainly be a damn shame."


End file.
